The World Cannot Know

Chapter 67

Matthew Wild

The castle had never felt so alive.

Servants bustled through every corridor, arms loaded with silks and banners, voices raised in hurried chatter. The scent of beeswax polish and baking bread filled the air, mingling with a thousand different preparations. Laughter, orders, and the occasional shriek from the kitchens echoed up into the stone rafters. The whole place pulsed with energy—nervous, elated, and chaotic.

Sebastian had been swept away early in the morning. Rehearsals, council briefings, ceremonial fittings. I'd barely seen him between one obligation and the next. The only sign of him was the faint echo of his voice in the council chamber and the growing number of advisors hovering at every corner.

So when Arney tugged at my sleeve with a raised brow and a familiar glint in his eye, I didn't need convincing.

We slipped out of the castle through the old servants' passage that once served as our escape route. It was still damp and narrow, the stone cold to the touch as we ducked beneath low beams and past forgotten storage. But when we emerged into the bright spring sunlight on the western lawn, it felt like stepping into a different world.

Arney stretched with a dramatic groan. "If I had to listen to one more noble argue about which house's sigil gets embroidered closest to the throne, I was going to start flipping tables."

I laughed, flopping down in the grass beside him. "You were never supposed to be anywhere near those arguments, Arney."

"And yet I keep finding myself in them. It's a curse."

We lay there for a moment, side by side beneath the blue sky. The buzz of the castle was faint in the distance, dulled by the rustle of the wind and the soft chirping of birds in the trees.

"You ever think we'd make it here?" I asked quietly.

Arney turned his head to look at me. "No. Not in a million years."

I chuckled, though there was a heaviness in it. "He's going to be king tomorrow."

"Yeah," Arney said. "And you're going to be standing right beside him."

I didn't answer right away. My fingers plucked idly at the grass. "I still don't know what that means—what I'm supposed to be now."

Arney shrugged. "You be what you've always been. Loyal. Brave. Honest. Stubborn as hell. Only now you do it in silk instead of dirt."

That earned a grin. "Gods, I hope not. I'm already itching in these trousers. I don't remember them being this uncomfortable."

We laughed together, the kind of laugh that came from deep friendship and too many close calls. The kind of laugh that carried old scars and new hopes.

Arney nudged my shoulder as we stood. "Come on. Let's see if the city's got more sense than the castle. Maybe they're not arguing about drapery colors."

"Or at least they'll give us a drink," I said, dusting off my trousers. "I'm half-convinced the kitchens have been seized by the crown."

"Oh, they have," Arney said grimly. "Alice caught me trying to sneak a tart earlier. Nearly bit my hand off."

We made our way down the hillside, taking the old trail that skirted the castle's west wall and curved down into the city. It was a clear day, sun shining over slate rooftops and fluttering flags. As we reached the main avenue, we found the city was very much alive.

Stalls were being set up along the cobbled streets, their owners shouting over each other as they arranged ribbons, sweets, and garlands in the kingdom's colors. Children darted between legs, chasing each other with streamers. Music drifted from somewhere—a fiddle and tambourine, a rhythm light enough to stir even the weariest soul.